The rapist Monday July 10, 2006, 0 comments

“Do you think you have a good life?” he asked, tapping his pen against a leather-bound notepad.

I smiled. The therapist had been asking me this question in a variety of ways over the last few weeks, and I had supplied the same answer in a variety of ways.

My mother, disturbed by my sudden drop in school performance after the attack, had taken matters into her own hands. Against my father’s protests, she had taken me to her therapist.

“I think some parts of it could be better, but for the most part, yeah, I think I have a good life.” I replied.

The therapist nodded. He’d been expecting the answer.

I looked out the window. I loved the view from here. The window overlooked an old cobblestone courtyard, and directly across from the window was an old stone building with a slate roof. Rain water cascaded down the slate tiles like a tiny waterfall. It was January, but winter hadn’t managed to get a grip on the climate yet.

Therapist, I thought to myself, The Rapist. Probably an old joke, but I found it funny. I tried not to smile.

“Do you have any friends?” he asked. This was a new question, though I had been expecting it, even from the very beginning. My mouth was suddenly filled with the taste of metal. I considered a moment how to answer the question.

“Yeah. One or two.”

I hated the way he wrote in his pad every time I said something. I wondered if he were writing my answer down, or his thoughts. I suspected it was both, but maybe it was neither. Maybe the pad was just a prop, something to help keep me out of my comfort zone.

“Can you tell me about them Adrian? Your friends.” he asked. Rain pattered against the window.

“What do you want to know?” I asked. I refused to make this easy for him.

“You could start with their names.” he responded immediately.

I nodded, and continued to watch the rain run down that window across the courtyard.

“My cousin Mike. Probably my best friend in the world, except for maybe my sister.” I answered.

He just nodded and scribbled, letting the silence between us draw out. I would not be the first to fill it. Eventually he spoke. “We’ll talk about both of them soon. Anyone else? Anyone not related to you?”

“Amy.” I answered after a long drawn out pause.

I watched him look over top of his glasses at me. “Amy? Tell me about Amy.”

I sighed and leaned back into the overstuffed chair, and listened to the scrape of his pen on his notepad.

“I don’t know how to describe Amy.” I said.


Comments

Commenting has ended for this post, but I'd still love to hear from you.

The website of Adrian Lebar

A Rain of Frogs is written, designed and built by Adrian Lebar, a twenty(!) year veteran of web design and development. He is currently managing web and mobile development teams at Canada’s largest and most beloved classifieds site, Kijiji!

He is a father, sailor, snowboarder, skier, cyclist, writer, artist, graphic designer, classically trained musician and afraid of heights.

Adrian is not currently available for freelance and contract work. Learn more.

If I had known I was going to live to 100, I'd have taken up violin at 60.”
- Unknown centagenerian, on her 100th birthday

Twitter

  • “D’you think I could interest you in a pair zircon encrusted tweezers?” Tuesday June 27, 2017
  • No more need to support IE10! That’s the 3rd obsolete browser (IE8 and 9 died first) we’ve killed support for at Kijiji since I started. Friday June 16, 2017
  • t.co/lTK8de2CH7 Thursday June 8, 2017
  • 4D Toys: a box of four-dimensional toys (for iOS and Vive) t.co/aNweKHZUHK via @YouTube Friday June 2, 2017
  • Who'd have thought Star Wars would make the cover of Vanity Fair? The geek truly has inherited the Earth. t.co/jEJJH5lvYc via @io9 Tuesday May 23, 2017
  • I think I just reached peak first world problems when I finished vacuuming my back patio... Saturday May 20, 2017